


They Will Be Great

by Ludovica



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anakin stays on the light side, Babies, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Padmé doesn't die, alternative ending, discussions about jedi culture, this fic is absolutely saccharine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 00:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11219880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: Mace Windu has been sent to convince Amidala and Anakin to give their ten-month-old children to the Jedi Order. But while his mission seems to be doomed to fail, his trip is not quite for nothing.





	They Will Be Great

“I have already told you our answer. It will not change, no matter how often you ask.”

Amidala smooths a hand over her robes, so much more simple and yet made of the same precious fabrics as the ones she wears in the senate. Anakin sits next to her, his mouth drawn in a line, arms crossed in front of his chest. His fear is tinged with anger; Amidala’s anger is tinged with fear.

Mace leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees. He turns his palms up beseechingly, a gesture not many have seen of him.

“You must understand that it would be for the best of your children as well. They are of the blood of one of the greatest Jedi of our time-”

Amidala lets out the snort Anakin is holding back out of respect for his old superior.

“-and they are already obviously showing force sensitivity. Their talent is tremendous, but their abilities have to be developed.”

“Not by the Order. Not in a Clan.” It is the first time since this conversation starts that Anakin is saying something. Mace was already thinking that he must be ill - or maybe fatherhood is just becoming him.

“Who will train them then? You?” Mace raises his eyebrows in Anakin’s direction. He might have been a powerful Jedi before he had left the order - he might have been the one to defeat Dark Sidious - but training younglings is different than training a Padawan. And training your own children… Mace can’t imagine that it is possible. “You could never install the kind of discipline in them needed to follow the path of the Jedi.”

Amidala puts her hand on Anakin’s leg. His posture stiffens; resolve is written on his face.

“They will not be Jedi. I have turned from the path for a good reason, and I will not abandon my children so they can follow a life that nearly led me to the Dark Side.”

Mace leans back and studies the two of them. They have closed ranks. Anakin puts his hand on Amidala’s, and they look at him as if from one pair of eyes.

“And how do you figure that you are doing them any good then? They might become powerful Jedi; maybe even more powerful than even you.”

“We are not going to force them into a life they do not want,” Amidala says, her face shadowed by a passion that he never observed in the Senator before.

Mace shakes his head. “Every parent forces their children into a life they might not want. But how would you know what your children may want in the future? They have the chance to influence the fate of the galaxy if they become Jedi, but only if they start young. The council will not make an exception for them as they did for you, Anakin. Once they are able to decide whether or not they would like to become Jedi, they will be too old to join.”

“If the order loses out on potentially powerful Jedi because of their archaic code, it is their problem, not that of us or our children.” Anakin’s words are colored Amidala’s diction; living outside the Order for ten months seems to have had its impact.

“And besides,” Anakin clasps Amidala’s hand in both of his. “You do not need to be a Jedi to influence the fate of the galaxy.”

The look of utter adoration Amidala shoots her husband makes pain flare up in a place deep inside Mace’s chest. But the moment is only a flash, and Amidala is back to her straight-backed, civil self as she looks at Mace.

“As it is late already, we would be glad if you stayed for the night. As long as you respect our will, you may stay under our roof.”

There is a faint tiredness blooming behind Mace’s temples, and he nodded. “Thank you, Senator.”

Amidala is just about to stand up, just about to say something else, when a scream rips through the parlor. She frowns, then looks at her guest again.

“If you excuse us, our daughter seems to be in need of our attention.”

She leaves the room, Anakin just behind her. A second wail follows the first one, and now the din of two screeching babies turns the sandstone house that had just been so peaceful and solemn into an inferno of noise.

Mace stands and straightens his robes. There is a reason why he never much liked visiting the Fosterers’ cribs.

~*~

The guestrooms are on the second floor of the narrow city house. Mace washes. his face and hands and meditates for a while, before he finds that he would like to take a walk around the city. He is just closing the door to the guestroom when he suddenly notices a wave in the force, like that of another force user, just… tiny.

He turns around to see a baby sitting in front of the door next to his. Big, dark eyes are looking at him, a thread of spit running from a half-open mouth. Then, all of a sudden, the baby rocks itself onto all fours and comes crawling towards him in a speed he would not have expected from somebody whose legs are still this stumpy.

Mace doesn’t move or react in any other way than to keep watching the little thing.

Those big eyes squint slightly when the baby’s pudgy little arms are finally within reach of his legs.. Then she reaches out and grabs the hem of Mace’s robe.

“What are you doing there, little one?” he says lowly, since the baby would not be able to understand him anyway. He doesn’t need an answer though, since the little thing is quite determined in whatever has gotten into its little fluff-covered head. With a concentration on its face that rivals that of quite a few Jedi Mace has seen in meditation, the baby pulls itself up onto its shaky little feet, before it lets go and keeps standing, wobbling only slightly. The baby looks up again and raised its arms towards Mace’s head.

“Up!” it says, quite clearly even despite its squeaky little voice. When Mace doesn’t react, but just frowns down at it, the little one puts on a frown of its own that makes it look awfully much like its mother. “UP!” it says louder, its little chin pushed forward and the corners of that tiny, spit-wet mouth pulled down severely. That expression looks so funny on a face that small and unfinished that Mace can’t help but crack a smile.

“Alright, little bug,” he says and bends down to pick the little one up under its arms. He puts it on his arm so that he has a nice grip on it without restricting its movement too much. It has been ages since he has last held a baby, and he is surprised how heavy it felt in his arms. 

“I do hope you’re not considering abducting my daughter,” Anakin’s voice comes from the head of the stairs.

Mace turns to see him coming up, another baby sleeping in his arms. There was a slight joking wave to his voice, but his eyebrows are drawn together with worry.

Mace snorts and gently rocks the little girl in his arms. “If anything, your daughter has hijacked me. I really wonder where that kind of determination is coming from.” He arches his eyebrow sarcastically, and then dodges a sudden hand that is trying to grab his ear. The little face of Anakin’s daughter scrunches up as if she is going to cry, but then she just blubbers out a little wave of spit bubbles and grabs for his ear again.

Anakin comes toward them, gently rocking the baby in his own arm, maybe to keep the male twin from waking up. “Be gentle, Leia,” he coos as he pets his little girl’s head, then he reaches over to gently pet Mace’s ear by means of demonstration, looking at Mace with a face as if he is about to burst out laughing at any moment. Mace shoots him a look that would have made him quiver in his pants back when he had still been a Padawan, but this ridiculous action seems to have the desired effect; Leia touches his ear again, but gently this time, patting it with the clumsy gentleness of somebody who can’t feed herself with a spoon yet.

“Shenw…” she says reverently, petting his ear again.

Anakin bends down to her, getting his still outrageously long hair (lighter from the Naboo sun than it used to be) right beneath Mace’s nose.

“This is Master Mace Windu. Can you say that, Leia? Mace Windu?”

The little thing looks up at Mace with utter concentration, chewing over the words before she parts her still spit-wet lips and gargles out: “Me Mimu!” She laughs as her father straightens again, Leia’s brother still sleeping in his arms while the little baby girl claps her chubby hands.

“Meh! Meh!” And she grabs his ear again, but then remembers what her father told her and pets it again instead of pulling.

Mace looks at her with a raised eyebrow, then he moves one hand away from her - holding her safe against him with a small flick through the force - to rub a finger over her ear as well.

“I feel a lot of potential in her,” he says as he looks back at Anakin. “In your son as well. They could be great.” The demand underlines his words. He will not take the children against Anakin’s or Amidala’s will, but it seems like a horrible waste.

Anakin looks down at his son and kisses his head. “They will be great. They will know their parents, Master Windu. They will be great - and they will be able to choose their own path to greatness.”

He looks at his daughter fondly, who is now teething at Mace’s thumb. Mace doesn’t care, for some reason.

“Too bad,” Mace says, looking down at her as well. “I am sure she would make a great Padawan. I might even have been tempted to teach her myself.”

Anakin raises his eyebrows at him, but then shakes his head again. “Maybe one day she’ll come to learn something from you. But not as your Padawan. Our children will grow up free to be what they want to be.”

Mace nods slowly. He is still not happy, but he can’t do anything about Anakin’s stubbornness. Later he will have to deal with the tiny voice that asks him if there isn’t a chance Anakin is right. For now, he has to come to terms with the knowledge that he is not holding a future Jedi master in his arms right now.

“Let’s get their walker,” Anakin proposes. “Padme just fed them and is sleeping now. If you would like to do so, we could go to one of the parks and talk while they play.”

That little hand is tugging at his ear again, but gentle, little fingers trying to find out how to touch without hurting.

Mace nods, and looks down at the little girl again. She looks up at him and gives him a big, spitty smile.

“I think I would like to do so, yes.”


End file.
